


Heart on His Sleeve

by your_taxidermy



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Prompt Fic, request, two detectives in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_taxidermy/pseuds/your_taxidermy
Summary: Two vice cops walk into a bar, one orders a little too much scotch, the other not nearly enough.
Relationships: Roy Earle/Cole Phelps
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Heart on His Sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> Requested fic  
> This was SO fun to wite <3 Enjoy

It’s cold, dreary. Cities and their glamor fade during the drizzling nights. It smells of gasoline, beer, and if morphine had a scent, we could add that to the long list of unique scents that run alongside cities. Roy stumbles at the bar, ushering the bartender to pour him another shot. Roy has money to spare, he has enough dollar bills to cover the floor with, money isn’t an issue for a man like Roy. Cole, on the other hand, is a little more frugal. He ordered a single shot beforehand, just enough to relax his tired shoulders. Cole doesn’t drink to get drunk. Roy? Oh, that man drinks to forget the shitty day at work. “Roy, I think you’ve had enough, don’t you agree?” Cole’s voice is the voice of reason, the calm after a wicked storm, in Roy’s case: the smoothness of Cole’s fatigued voice was better than any shot of a hundred dollar scotch. Roy won’t listen, he doesn’t think he should have to listen. No one tells him what to and what not to do. 

Roy can hardly take an order to save his life, and now puppy dog Phelps is running his mouth? 

“I’m fine I’m in top-top-shape, Phelps, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.” he laughs. His lips are coated in a thin layer of scotch, his greedily licks it off. His eyes traveled up the shelf of wine and beers like a kid in a candy shop, mesmerized and gleeful. “Roy,” Cole began to reprimand but Roy wasn’t a child. Cole caught himself from scolding the hotheaded detective.    
  


“Oh, let your hair down, Princess Phelps, do it for me, will you?” Roy chuckles, he’s feeling like he’s taking a cruise ship through outer space and he’s just kissed the Milky Way’s shimmery lips. What a wicked, wicked creature drunkenness is. Just barely giving him what he wants. “Just sit next to me, I don’t have cooties.” Cole somehow doubted that. 

“You don’t?” Cole asks with a soft smile. Roy shakes his head, “No, Phelps,” he pronounces it breathily, each exhale begins to sound softer and softer. Soon, that harshly snapped  _ Phelps  _ from hours before turned into an endearing name, something to be whispered with benignity. Cole couldn’t lie, he preferred to hear his name with gentleness. But for him to think of Roy and  _ gentleness -  _ who was be kidding? Polar opposites. 

Roy shakes his head. “At least I don’t think so.” Roy’s eyes are soft, the brutal gaze he shares with everyone is nowhere to be seen. Cole complies and he takes a long stride over to his partner. “Happy now?” Cole teases. “Oh, so very,” Roy throws an arm on Cole’s shoulder, he smells of fine scotch and Snuff cologne. The scent is all too familiar to Cole, the scent alone reminds him of Roy. His car smells like it, his desk, his everything smells like  _ Roy. Roy, Roy, Roy, that damned bastard.  _

“Y’know, Phelps,” the older man begins, “I love you, y-you’re a killer guy to work with and I’m glad I picked you. I  _ love you.”  _

Cole takes a deep breath, he’d heard those words from his darling wife, his two precious children, but never the man he thought hated him. He was too soft for the hard-boiled chief, he was too heartfelt, his heart kept falling off his sleeve.  _ It isn’t right, why do we always fall for those who we can’t have?  _ “You’re drunk,” Cole replied without a second thought. “Why’re you so mean, Phelps? And you’re the one always crying I don’t have a heart.” Roy can’t tell if he’s joking with him, does he mean what he says? Does he speak the truth with Cole? 

Cole turns his head away from Roy, he feels a tinge in his chest and he’s sure it’s not the alcohol. “Your judgment is impaired, Roy, I know you’ll think back to this in disgust.” 

Cole almost sounds offended. Almost. But he ends his line with a fake laugh, he can’t let this man get in his head. Already feeling unloved enough at home, his work consumes him, his blue line of justice keeps him detached to what really matters in life. He can’t feel unloved again, he won’t be lied to, let alone by Roy of all people. 

“Come on, we should get going.” Cole throws money on the countertop, Roy can’t help but notice how snappy Cole moves his fingers to fiddle with the cash. He’s angry. Roy says nothing to him until he staggers outside. Cole walks tall, proud, and his head is high even when he feels dirt low. The cold air hits Roy’s neck, nature’s kiss is a painful one. The shock of cold opens his eyes and he’s greeted with Cole smoking in front of him. He notices everything about him now. The street lights make him look so fucking perfect, Christ, why does he have to look like that? Roy’s angry with himself now, angry he confessed so soon. He’s blessed with both beauty and rage and it’s his unrelenting rage that drives him, his beauty only makes his rage even deadlier. He’s sharper than a knife but Cole makes him feel dull as a doorknob. 

Cole exhales the smoke, he’s mysterious and flawless. Roy just noticed the mole on Cole’s lower jaw, right where it connects to head. He sees everything. He sees the softness of his jaw, his jowls are soft and resemble clouds. Cole has surprisingly long eyelashes, they even curl ever so slightly. His smoking session feels like it’s taking forever, too long for Roy’s comfort. The silence makes him uncomfortable, the air feels like sludge and having Cole stand there in a candid aura is  _ not helping.  _   
  
Cole turns to look at him, he extended his hand to Roy with the cigarette between his fingers. “Finish it for me.” Roy is more than happy to, he could use a smoke now. “I wasn’t lying you know,” Roy breaks out with surprising sobriety. The cold air makes him feel alive again. Cole turns his head again, his brows raised with childlike curiosity. “What do you mean?” 

“You know damn well what I mean, Phelps. You just want me to say it.” _No, Roy just wants to say it again._

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, honest.” 

“Coyness masquerading as obliviousness? Can you do a little better than that, Phelps?”

“I don’t know, can you be a little more clear,  _ Earle?”  _

“I really can’t make heads or tails of you, Cole.” 

“We can always flip a coin.” Cole gave a gentle smile. 

Roy shakes his head, tapping the ashes on the ground. They sizzle on the damp sidewalk. “I wasn’t lying,” Roy says again, he needs Cole to believe him, he needs Cole to  _ trust him, take his word for it. Just this once. _

“I wasn’t lying and I’m sure as hell not lying now.” There’s sincerity in Roy’s eyes, even if it’s only this one time, it’s there. Oh  _ God _ , it’s there and it’s tearing him apart. “I love you, Cole.” 

Rain trickles down Cole’s cheeks, he’s standing under the light post, those blue eyes could pull him in and he’d drown happily.  **“I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.** ” He said it. He finally said it. That’s all he had to do. 

Cole’s eyes diverted to the ground glued to the ashes now dissolved into the ground. His thoughts are spiraling, there’s something on the tip of his tongue. All he can do smile. That’s enough for Roy. Cole, the romantic is at a loss for words, Cole, the poet, the sword of justice, now has not a word to say. barely a breath to give. “You always called us a dysfunctional couple,” Cole pauses his hands fiddling with the car keys in his coat pocket. “And I have to agree with that.” 

Cole had never seen Roy smirk so widely before. But this time it’s different, he doesn’t see the mischevious smirk, the smirk laced with poison and pride. It’s endearingly playful. Roy brings a hand to his chest, his fingers are nimble against the buttons of his shirt. The air hits his chest, it reminds him of cotton sheets on his chest, it’s cool and pleasant. Cole can’t let his eyes stare for too long, he refuses to be that obvious. But Roy knows- at least he hopes he does. 

"A dysfunctional couple, I can live with that. I can _almost_ say I don't mind it," Cole adds in. 

" _I knew there was a reason I picked you, Phelps."_


End file.
